


wicked & divine

by Lint



Series: Madeline [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 06:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10634487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lint/pseuds/Lint
Summary: The guilt swells heavy in Veronica's stomach. That she could play any kind of part in Betty's psyche breaking further. That she could be somewhat complacent in it, because of her own selfish feelings and desires.





	

Club night.

 

Another bury the hatchet offering between Lodge and Blossom, though Veronica isn't sure how long this truce will last, Cheryl having disappeared ten minutes after their arrival and has yet to resurface. The drinks are good, however, as is the music.

 

Veronica loses herself in the rhythm, sliding between partners, hips swinging with the sound while her hands lift toward the lights. Bodies, bodies everywhere, all focused on the beat. She dances until her muscles ache. Until her head becomes light. The heat of the floor suddenly too much to bear, that it spins counter to her moves, and she wanders away from the crowd to catch her breath.

 

Something else catches her eye, a quick flash of something familiar, though the rational part of her mind still functioning declares it can't be. That this isn't her scene. That she couldn't even know about the club, let alone grace it with her presence. Her feet move to follow, however, before the thought is even finished.

 

The hallway leading to the bathrooms has a fork off to the left, one the girl she trails takes without hesitation, the echo of her heels on the cold concrete floor now audible the further they get from the DJ.

 

“Betty?” She questions, causing the girl to stop instantly, the last click of her shoes pinging in Veronica's ear. “Is that-what are you doing here?”

 

She seems to spin in slow motion, the familiar flapper wig that caught Veronica's eye, framing her friend's face with perfect points that drop just below her jaw. Lips stained crimson rather her habitual pastel pink, with eyes perfectly accentuated by sharpened lines of black, the light in them different from the girl she sees on a daily basis.

 

“I'm sorry,” the girl replies. “I think you have me confused with someone else.”

 

Veronica's head tilts in confusion, brows furrowing at the statement. This is no uncanny doppelganger in front of her, she's sure of it. It is Betty Cooper, her bubbly best friend, playing goth club Barbie for some unknown reason.

 

“Betty come on,” she starts, but it cut off by a hand thrown up.

 

“I don't think you understand,” the girl states flatly. “Betty isn't here right now.”

 

Veronica's eyes widen.

 

“Okay...” she replies, drawing out the vowels. “Then who are you exactly?”

 

The girl offers a smile that instantly makes Veronica's heart stop, suddenly feeling so cold, like a meek little forest animal watching the snake coil its way toward her.

 

“We've met before, haven't we?” comes the reply. “She called me Polly that one time, but we both know it doesn't suit me. I guess I don't really have a name.”

 

The girl steps forward, and Veronica can't help but retreat, warning bells ringing loudly in her mind.

 

“I don't feel like a Beth,” she continues. “Lizzie is too YouTube Jane Austen, and E just makes me sound pretentious. Then again, maybe I don't need some play on Betty blue eyes' name. A little obvious don't you think?”

 

She takes another step, but this time Veronica holds her ground, breath shaking when the girl stops mere inches from pressing into her, one hand lifting to tease under her chin.

 

“Come on, Ronnie,” the girl tuts, repeating Veronica's earlier insistence. “Help me out here.”

 

It's too much, Veronica thinks, whatever is happening right now. She's exhausted, kind of drunk, and this is just far beyond her mental capacity in the moment.

 

“Madeline,” she offers offhand, it being the first name that pops into her head, memory suddenly reaching for a beloved childhood story. A name she'd always given dolls. Pets. One that doesn't sound like some high class call girl, or low key porn star, based on the girl's appearance alone.

 

The eyes that aren't Betty's light up at the suggestion, but still seem to think it over a moment, before that snake like smile comes back into play.

 

“Madeline,” she repeats with a nod. “Love it. Call me that.”

 

Veronica feels dizzy.

 

“What is happening right now?”

 

Madeline's hands lift to Veronica's cheeks, thumbs stroking the skin.

 

“You want to know where this is coming from. Where I came from.” She laughs. “Thing is Ronnie cakes, I've always been here,” she informs. “Just a quiet little voice in the back of her mind. But that girl has a little problem with repression, depression, and a slew of other issues she's too afraid to burden anyone with. Sweet, perfect Betty Cooper, always raging against the light on the inside. Constant pressure bubbling up, until every now and again, she has to let me out.”

 

Veronica wants to badly to avert her eyes, but something about the girl doesn't let her look away.

 

“Do I even have to ask that you don't tell anyone?” Madeline inquires smugly. “You look like the type of girl who can keep a secret.”

 

Without thinking, Veronica nods, internally angry with herself for being so helpless.

 

Madeline closes what little space is left between them, offering gratitude in a kiss, one that makes Veronica's eyes flutter closed.

 

“She's been wanting to do that again,” Madeline tells, pulling back. “Ever since the spectacle of you two in the gym. Sometimes when she's alone, she'll let herself remember how you tasted, always touching that spot on her chin where your thumb lingered.”

 

Veronica wants to run. So far and fast. But remains where she is, frozen in place.

 

“Something about you makes her so happy,” Madeline continues. “But doesn't think she deserves it. Will never let herself have it.”

 

Madeline kisses her again.

 

“Have you.”

 

This is wrong, Veronica thinks. So wrong. So many levels of _wrong_.

 

“Poor thing,” Madeline tuts. “The two of you could be beautiful.”

 

She backs away from Veronica, offering a playful bop on the nose, before sidestepping around her to head toward the dance floor once again.

 

“Cheryl is here!” Veronica warns, suddenly remembering. “Don't let her see you.”

 

Madeline looks none too concerned.

 

“Don't worry about your girl,” she calls back. “I'll take extra good care of her.”

 

/\

 

The next morning she meets Betty for breakfast at Pop's, and has no idea how to act around her. Gaze constantly darting up to every blonde strand on her head, perfectly tied into that typical ponytail, with nary a one out of place. She half expects them to turn black before her, fall free from the band, and tickle along her jaw.

 

Betty says good morning with a sweet smile, and Veronica doesn't hear the hiss from last night, doesn't see those too blue eyes turn distant and cold. She doesn't know much about the human psyche, but part of her expects something from the girl she met last night to shine through, to give any indication that she existed at all.

 

Betty's head tilts at her, a single brow lifting with her confusion to Veronica's uncharacteristic silence. Pop thankfully chooses that moment to drop their plates at the table, which only ads to the awkwardness of this most important meal of the day, because Veronica knows she just got here and didn't even look at the menu yet let alone order.

 

“I took the liberty,” Betty offers, after thanking Pop.

 

Looking down at the croissant, two tabs of butter, and small offering of orange marmalade she smiles. There's a side of scrambled eggs too, which she is also grateful for, protein a definite need with the amount of vodka she managed to down the previous night.

 

“Fifty points to Gryffindor,” Veronica replies, grabbing a fork and going straight for the eggs.

 

Betty looks most pleased, pouring syrup on her pancakes with one hand, and munching on a piece of bacon with the other.

 

“So how'd it go with Cheryl last night?” Betty asks, picking up a knife and fork.

 

A simple question really, but that asking of it causes Veronica to choke, batting at her chest as she reaching for a glass of water.

 

“That good, huh?” Betty teases.

 

“Fine,” Veronica gasps on the swallow. “It went fine. You know, dancing and depravity. No big deal.”

 

Betty nods her acceptance of the answer around a mouthful of pancake, lips plain around the fork, but seem to flash red before Veronica's eyes.

 

“What about you?” She asks cautiously. “Do anything noteworthy without me?”

 

“Not really,” Betty replies with a shrug. “Fell asleep editing the latest edition of the Blue and Gold. You know me, one big party animal.”

 

_Tell her_ , Veronica's inner voice screams. That she didn't fall asleep. That she was out clubbing looking like the hybrid monster of Louise Brooks and Rose McGowan. That there's another girl living inside of her, doing whatever she pleases when taking over, things Betty would never.

 

The words don't make it past Veronica's lips, who has suddenly lost her appetite, absently picking at the croissant and drinking cup after cup of coffee.

 

/\

 

It's nearly one in the morning when Veronica's phone goes off, she just having crossed the threshold into her room ready to take her shoes off, and fall ungracefully into the sheets. Brows furrow in confusion when she pulls it out to check, Betty's number highlighting the screen, wondering what could be wrong as she just left her house less then thirty minutes ago.

 

The message, however, doesn't read as Betty at all.

 

_Come outside_ , it says. _Wear something hot. -M_

 

Veronica quickly moves to the window, fingers sliding between the blinds to sneak a peak, and sure enough there stands Betty's other on the street below. Despite the fact that she can't possibly been seen from such a height, in the dark, Madeline waves up at her.

 

With a gasp, she pulls back from the window, wondering what kind of witchy voodoo that girl is capable of and mindlessly walks over to her closet to pick out something hot as requested.

 

Madeline smirks with approval when Veronica exits the Pembrooke, giving a decidedly long once over, and for a moment Veronica thinks she might be asked to give a little twirl. Instead Madeline offers her arm, which Veronica loops her own through easily, and is pulled toward a familiar car.

 

“Is that Alice's?” she asks, suddenly worried sheriff Keller will come speeding down the street with lights and sirens.

 

“Yeah,” Madeline confirms. “But she won't know it's gone.”

 

Veronica stops dead.

 

“I seriously doubt that.”

 

Madeline laughs.

 

“Trust me.”

 

She remains dubious.

 

“With the amount of sleeping pills I slipped her, she won't remember her middle name come morning.”

 

Veronica is shocked.

 

“What the hell Bet-uh- _Madeline!_ ”

 

Madeline sighs.

 

“She'll be fine. If there's one thing you learn being a Cooper kid, it's how to measure prescriptions. Now come on,”she urges with a tug toward the car.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“Secret warehouse party over in Greendale.”

 

Veronica is still hesitant.

 

“You know how to drive?”

 

Madeline smiles reptilian.

 

“Don't worry Ronnie,” she assures. “I know everything she knows.”

 

-

 

The party is in full swing when they arrive, and the first thing Madeline does is nudge Veronica into the center of it all, dancing and grinding with moves Betty wouldn't dare show in public. Not for the first time, Veronica wonders what her responsibility is in all this. Keeping such a secret from her closest friend on one hand, and justifying to herself that no one else would look out for fractured part of her personality on the other.

 

Another, darker impulse helps motivate such lies of omission. Madeline isn't afraid of much, or anything, especially when it comes to physical affection. Something Veronica has longed for from the girl next door. Their hips grind together with the thumping beat, Madeline continually pushing to Veronica's space, and she never backing down.

 

The kiss is inevitable.

 

So is Madeline pulling her off into an uninhabited corner of the warehouse, where Veronica's shoulders are promptly flattened against the wall, lips claimed but given freely. The taller girl's knee is wedged between her legs, face held firmly between her hands, until one dares to trickle down south.

 

“Wait,” Veronica gasps before any friction is made.

 

“For what?” Madeline wonders, kissing her way down Veronica's neck, that hand paused dangerously on her inner thigh.

 

“Doesn't feel right.”

 

Madeline grins.

 

“Feels just fine to me.”

 

“That's not what I-”

 

She gasps when Madeline's hand moves forward, losing herself for a few blissful seconds, before coming to her senses and pulling away.

 

“What?” Madeline asks. “What's wrong?”

 

“We can't,” Veronica starts, breathing heavy. “You, you're-”

 

“I'm what?”

 

Veronica's eyes lower to the floor.

 

“You're not her.”

 

/\

 

“You okay, V?” Betty asks with a bump of her arm.

 

Far from it, Veronica doesn't reply, head in her hands feeling slightly delirious from sleep deprivation. After finally making it home around seven in the morning, she couldn't sleep a wink, still reeling from Madeline's anger at her rejection. The broken glass, blood, and almost fight she had to break up shortly after.

 

Then the other girl storming off and disappearing into the crowd, Veronica left abandoned in some warehouse on the edge of a town she's never been to, where cell service must have been a precious commodity because she had to walk a mile and a half away to get a signal decent enough for a ride share.

 

“Do you ever,” Veronica begins with a sigh, eyes still so heavy, brain struggling to focus. “Do you ever wake up some place and not remember how you got there? Wearing clothes you didn't know you had? Scratches or bruises you don't remember getting?”

 

She looks up to Betty, whose lips are pressed together so tight, with hands clenched hard enough to smash stone. She'll deny it in words Veronica knows, always does when it comes to her own problems, but her body language provides the answers she seeks.

 

“Why do you ask?” Betty inquires after a moment, visibly loosening enough to reply.

 

“Because I met someone,” Veronica answers. “And didn't know a thing about her, but she scared me, made me scared for her. There and gone in a flash, and honestly I didn't think too hard about it even when you denied she ever existed.”

 

Again Betty's whole body looks as if it curls into a fist.

 

“I met her again,” Veronica continues. “A little longer this time. I got to know her, actually. Strangely enough I even gave her a name.”

 

Betty's breath audibly catches. “She has a name now?”

 

“You know who I'm talking about then.”

 

Tears well in Betty's eyes, but she recoils from Veronica's offered hand, folding her arms instead.

 

“There's always been this darkness in me,” she confesses. “I don't know where it comes from. Sometimes it's overwhelming and she-”

 

“Madeline.”

 

“What?”

 

“That's her name.”

 

"Oh." Betty nods her acceptance of this new fact. “I see.”

 

Veronica places a hand on Betty's arm, glad she doesn't pull away this time, and waits for her to continue.

 

“Sometimes the darkness is overwhelming,” she goes on after another moment. “And she, Madeline, comes crawling to the surface. There's nothing I can do when she's in control. It's like I just go to sleep, and when I wake up, I don't know where we've been or what she's done.”

 

Veronica isn't quite sure how to proceed with this, feeling way in over her head with the amount of psychological masochism Betty must put herself through. These are genuinely severe problems that need to be dealt with.

 

“Have you ever, you know, talked to anyone about her?”

 

Tears finally fall down her cheeks as she nods, looking down at her feet.

 

“So many doctors. So many therapists. So many prescriptions and pills. Nothing ever seems to work. She always hides from them. Never peeks her head above water when I'm in a session, or being diagnosed. They always seem to think it's a combination of other issues, and that another personality is just a cry for some kind of attention. They probably should have put me someplace a long time ago, but my Mom was never going to let that happen. Little by little, I dealt with it. Gained more control. But every now and then I just lose it, and out she comes.”

 

Veronica's heart aches inside her chest, head dropping to her friend's shoulder.

 

“It seems to be happening more and more,” she puts out.

 

“Yeah,” Betty agrees.

 

“What do you think is causing that?”

 

They're quiet a moment.

 

“I think,” Betty starts. “I mean, she might, want to see you.”

 

“What?”

 

The guilt swells heavy in Veronica's stomach. That she could play any kind of part in Betty's psyche breaking further. That she could be somewhat complacent in it, because of her own selfish feelings and desires.

 

“I don't know what she does,” Betty goes on. “I can't see what she sees, but I feel what she feels. All the anger and rage sits with me, but lately it's been different. She's been, lighter? Like, I come back and feel happy?”

 

Veronica doesn't know what to say.

 

“I think she might,” Betty takes a breath. “I think she might be in love with you.”

 

“That's ridiculous,” Veronica quickly denies.

 

“Is it?” Betty counters. “I feel what she feels. She feels what I feel.”

 

“Betty...”

 

“I'm sure she said something about me. It feels like she has.”

 

“She might have,” Veronica gives. “But she also said you'd never admit it.”

 

Betty looks to her, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks, as she leans down to kiss Veronica so soft and sweet.

 

“This is me admitting it.”

 

“Okay,” Veronica accepts, eyes still fluttered closed. “You love me.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And I love you, if that wasn't totally obvious.”

 

“Also yes.”

 

Veronica's eyes open to meet hers, glad for that moment of happiness reflecting from brown to blue, but knowing that finally accepting their feelings for one another does nothing in regards to the bigger issue at hand.

 

“Betty you need help,” she says, one hand lifting to wipe away the other girl's tears. “Like serious, professional help.”

 

She nods. “I know.”

 

“So let's get you some, okay? And don't worry, I'm going to be there with you, for whatever you need. However long it takes.”

 

Betty laughs in broken relief, leaning over to rest their heads together.

 

“How's it feel having a nut job for a best friend?”

 

Veronica's arms wrap around her.

 

“It feels wonderful.”

 

 


End file.
